


thantophobia

by narrativefoiltrope



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narrativefoiltrope/pseuds/narrativefoiltrope
Summary: thantophobia (n); fear of death or of losing someone you love.mason spirals when he catches detective winter collins doing something dangerous.
Relationships: Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), Female Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	thantophobia

**Author's Note:**

> from a cliche trope tumblr prompt: "you caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out."  
> come yell about twc with me there (same username)

Mason cocooned himself in smoke, an attempted buffer against the early summer evening. He didn’t smoke much anymore but he needed a cigarette today to dull the cloudless sky and the screeching of people out enjoying the weather. Why the hell did he decide to end his patrol in the centre of Wayhaven? Was he a masochist now?

The smoke in front of him dissipated and he caught a flash of dark blonde hair in the distance. _Oh. Right._

He watched as Winter stepped out of the bakery with the other officer, the loud one whose taste in bright makeup gave him a migraine. In her hands, Winter clutched a small paper bag that he knew contained her breakfast for tomorrow; when he was on babysitting duty, she always dragged him there on her way home from work to pick something up. Her hair was pulled back today and exposed the scar on her neck that she was usually so worried about hiding. A low growl escaped him at the memory of how she got that scar, her lying motionless and covered in blood. 

Her laugh pulled his attention back to the present. It was a sound that might have been shrill coming from anyone else, but he didn’t mind it coming from her. Not much about Winter bothered him—except maybe how skilled she was at dodging his advances. Plus, she was nice to look at, especially now in a sundress that exposed much more skin than her typical outfit did, long legs for once not hidden under slacks. A strange knot formed in Mason’s chest the longer he looked at her. Maybe when she _finally_ gave in and slept with him, this sensation would go away. It wasn’t something he had felt before and he wasn’t sure he liked it. 

What happened next seemed to happen very slowly: A young father and a little girl holding a stuffed giraffe approached Winter and the loud officer on the sidewalk. Winter waved at them both, a bright smile focused on the child, who returned her wave with enthusiasm. So much enthusiasm that the stuffed toy landed in the street and the little girl ran after it. 

Wayhaven didn’t have many roads that could be considered “busy,” but this main street in front of the bakery was probably the busiest. And a car was coming. 

Without a blink, Winter launched herself in the street and scooped up both the child and the toy. She held out a hand behind her, as if that would stop a goddamn speeding car, what the _fuck_ was she thinking—

The car halted about six feet in front of Winter. She jogged back to the sidewalk to hand off the little girl to her father before giving a wave of thanks ( _thanks?_ For nearly _running her over in the middle of the road?)_ to the driver. The other officer patted Winter on the back—and that tipped Mason over the edge. _Who congratulates someone on such_ stupid _behaviour?_

Actually, there was one thing that bothered him about Winter: Her fucking martyr complex that made her put everyone else before herself, including before her own _life_ apparently. That tightness in his chest reappeared but he tried to ignore it by overwriting it with rage. Not hard to do since he was fucking seething. He wrapped himself in anger until the air around him was pulsating and his vision blurred. This—this rage—he could handle, was used to; it was easier to explode with fury than to address the strange growing ache in his chest, nearly physical now, that threatened to bring him to his knees. 

Mason yanked the cigarette from his mouth, stomping it into the ground so hard the earth sank several inches below his boot. He snarled as he freed himself and then stormed off to Winter’s apartment, anger radiating off of him in waves that threatened to scorch everything around him. When he arrived outside her door, he ripped open the pack of cigarettes and shoved one into his mouth. He stood stock still against the wall, the only movement the gnashing of his teeth on the unlit cigarette between them. 

Winter arrived ten minutes later. The smile she reserved for him—which showed her teeth, as opposed to the serene closed smile she gave everyone else—appeared on her lips when she saw him and her brown eyes softened. 

“Hi handsome, I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said as she walked closer to him. 

Mason glowered at her and he felt the moment she registered that this was not a happy visit, her heart rate increasing, breathing becoming shallow. Concern furrowed her brow and wiped the open smile from her face. Winter dropped her gaze and fumbled with her keys before opening the door and gesturing for him to enter. He glared at her a beat longer, then peeled himself off the wall and walked into her apartment. Coiled like a spring, he waited silently in the middle of her tiny living room, tension lacing every muscle. 

Winter slowly approached him, but kept her distance. The space between them now was foreign, something they’d abandoned over the last few months in favour of casual closeness. Mason watched her assess him: Saw the worry in her eyes as she scanned every inch of him looking for signs of physical distress and, when she found none, she met—but nearly flinched away from—his gaze. 

“Mason, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me,” Winter murmured. 

That worry for him was enough to make him snap. “Why don’t you try having a goddamn sliver of that concern you have for everyone else for yourself, sweetheart,” he spat. “I saw your little stunt just now, throwing yourself into traffic.” 

Winter blinked at him and paused briefly. “Lucy ran after her toy and I couldn’t leave her in the street. It’s my job to protect people and that’s what I did,” she said. Her heartbeat had settled in its normal rhythm, her breathing was steady. _Did she really not see the problem?_

Mason took a large step forward and curled his lip into a sneer, fangs bared, hackles raised. “I didn’t see your friend run into the street, so don’t tell me it’s every officer’s job to _risk their fucking life_ even when they’re off-duty—that’s all you, Winter,” he growled. 

His use of her name—a rare occurrence—provoked a physical reaction in Winter that not even his menacing stance did: The colour drained from her face and she inhaled sharply. 

“Not even that kid’s dad ran after her! What the hell were you thinking? What if that car hadn’t stopped, _couldn’t_ stop?” That tightness was back in his chest and it now grew oily tendrils, one snaking down to clench his stomach and another snaking up to settle in his throat. The cloak of rage he had wrapped himself in was quickly unravelling and being replaced by a sinking feeling, a _sick_ feeling that he had never felt before. Not fully aware of the words coming out of his mouth any longer, Mason continued, “You’re so worried about making sure everybody else doesn’t get hurt but did you ever _think_ about what it would be like for—” — _for me_ — “—for people to lose you?” Distantly, he realised he had at some point closed the space between them to grip Winter’s upper arms.

Winter’s heart stuttered as she looked at him, brown eyes growing wide. She didn’t say anything for several long moments, but when she did, her voice was barely a whisper. “You’re right,” she breathed. “I’ll be more careful. I wouldn’t want to hurt…the people in my life because I wasn’t thinking.” 

She gently took his face in between both her hands and leaned her forehead against his before saying firmly, a bit louder, “I promise to look after my own safety more. I’m sorry, Mason.” Winter pulled back, searched his eyes for something she found a heartbeat later, and then placed a kiss on his forehead. 

The tightness in his chest finally released. Mason grabbed her hips and pulled her flush against him. “You better keep that promise, sweetheart,” he grumbled into her hair. Winter responded by wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly.

He thought it might not be so bad if she didn’t let him go.


End file.
